


Crazy Delicious

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Peter, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prompt - Blues Music, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Peter looks great when he’s in the kitchen. Snug jeans as always and he either has on short sleeves or he pushes the sleeves up and ugh. Plus, there’s always music playing and he sings along and sways. His voice is passable, he can certainly carry a tune better than Stiles, but it’s the little dance moves that kills him.





	Crazy Delicious

**Author's Note:**

> For the November prompt Blues Music. I hope R&B works! And if you don't know the song, go youtube it.

Stiles enjoyed it when he and Peter became kind of friends. They were able to spend a couple of hours in a room together, usually working on some research project and it ended up being fun. With a lot of snark and sarcasm, of course, but eventually they’d both be willing to admit to people they’re friends.

When friendship led to urgent, rough sex, that was good, too. Very good, actually. That happened while Stiles was in college, after a long day of researching a gowrow that apparently decided to visit Beacon Hills. So research and arguments and epic levels of sarcasm led to shoving against walls and nudity and loud orgasms. Lots of them.

The sex and friendship then turned into actual dating. Dating like dressing up and going to restaurants and movies, dinners at Peter’s and even seeing plays and going out to clubs. There’s still snark and truly astounding levels of sex, but it’s almost like they’re regular people. In fact, Stiles finds out that Peter’s a lot more “normal” than others in the pack might think.

After Stiles finishes college, they move in together. Into an apartment that’s new to both of them, one they both picked. It’s comfortable, located in what’s considered an upscale neighborhood. Not too big  two bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms.

What surprises and amuses Stiles is how completely domestic Peter is. They go out shopping to furnish the apartment, adding items that Peter didn’t have in his old apartment or replacing items that Stiles didn’t like.

He knows Peter spends money on clothes, but until they moved in together he didn’t realize he could spend so much shopping for 1000 count sheets or expensive hair products. And of course there’s the gourmet cheese shop and a separate shop for meats. There’s wines sent to him several times a year from his favorite wineries and Peter requests Stiles’ favorites, too.

So the food has to be special and the house has to be special and Peter _cleans_ it. Himself. Stiles comes home and there’s music playing and he’s vacuuming or dusting or he’s waxing floors. 

“Not exactly what I pictured. The cleanliness thing I get, but I kind of expected you berating your frightened team of maids.” Stiles helps a little in the kitchen, but mainly cleaning is Peter’s thing. He does help by lifting his feet so Peter can vacuum in front of the couch.

“If you’d spent as long in a hospital as I did, you might want things taken care of a little more,” Peter answers. They’ve had this discussion before and frankly it’s made Stiles very concerned about spending any amount of time in a long term care facility.

“I know, babe, knock yourself out. Do you want me to do anything?” Stiles asks, knowing the answer.

Peter snorts quietly, recognizing the empty offer. “No, thank you, dear. And as far as maids go…”

“Yup. A) You don’t like strangers in your house. B) You’re a picky fucker about chemical smells and C) No one lives up to your standards.” It’s all fine with Stiles, of course -- after having spent much of his childhood keeping the house clean for him and his Dad, it’s someone else’s turn.

In addition to cleaning, Peter likes cooking. Dinners out are less frequent than Stiles expected and that’s also a good thing. Stiles has a few things that he owns; his potato latkes are competition worthy. But otherwise, Peter runs the kitchen and Stiles is a happy and well-fed man and there’s often leftovers for his dad.

And Peter looks great when he’s in the kitchen. Snug jeans as always and he either has on short sleeves or he pushes the sleeves up and ugh. Plus, there’s always music playing and he sings along and sways. His voice is passable, he can certainly carry a tune better than Stiles, but it’s the little dance moves that kills him. Sometimes just his hips and shoulders, sometimes a little footwork, especially when he’s moving to get more pans or something out of the fridge. Peter bent over to get something off the bottom shelf, singing quietly with his ass shaking. He always smirks when he turns around seeing Stiles sitting on a chair by the kitchen counter and staring. Peter sniffs the air and raises an eyebrow before he goes back to cooking and maybe there’s a little extra performance as he uses his claws to dice vegetables.

“Umm, what’s for dinner tonight, smells great,” Stiles asks, when he comes home and kisses Peter’s neck, that place just behind his ear that usually gets a shudder.

“Beef bourguignon,” he answers, tilting his head to make room for his mate. “It needs another hour.”

Stiles pours himself a glass of wine and goes to his usual place, the stool closest to the sink at the kitchen counter. “Can I help?”

“Keep me company,” Peter says. He takes a sip of his wine and goes back to doing something with cute tiny onions. 

Today he’s wearing a blue striped, button down shirt. It’s one of Stiles’ favorites on him, with the way the color makes his eyes so so blue. Of course he’s rolled up the sleeves and Stiles watches the corded muscles of his tanned forearms and that vein and he can’t help but sigh. “It’s a chore, but I’m willing to contribute.”

Peter says nothing, but he grins as he goes back to cooking. He stops for a minute and turns up the radio, singing quietly. He sways for a second, with his eyes shut and says, “I love this song.”

Stiles listens for a minute, it’s a slow and bluesy love song, the kind that he knows Peter favors. Stiles married a closet romantic. “What is it?”

“Sweet Love by Anita Baker.” He waves Stiles over and with one last sip of wine, Stiles joins him in the kitchen.

“Never heard of her,” Stiles says. He has, of course, but he likes the reaction.

Peter pulls him close and nips on his neck. “Philistine,” he says and they move together in a slow dance as the song continues.

It’s over too soon and they kiss, not ready to let go. “Thanks for the dance,” Stiles whispers into Peter’s mouth.

“There’s a play list and I have about an hour before I need to do anything more with dinner,” Peter answers as the next song starts.

Stiles kisses him again and rests his head on Peter’s shoulder as something soft and mellow plays in the background and they dance.


End file.
